


Improvisation

by incapricious



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble Sequence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incapricious/pseuds/incapricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic in the form of 8 drabbles and 1 double drabble, expanding on the "improvised weapons/improvised armour" trope seen in Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improvisation

**Author's Note:**

> written for the homesverse land comm mini!bang tv trope challenge.

Sherlock and John sat down in the grass, laughing and covered in scratches, a few deep enough to bleed.

"I thought we were done for, for a moment there," said John. "I won't forget my gun again."

"Who needs a gun when you've got a bottle of mineral water?"

"Ha. Luckily for us it was glass and not plastic."

"True. You could have rapped him on the head with a plastic one, but I doubt that would have done much damage."

"That has to be the oddest tool you've ever used to stop a criminal."

Sherlock smirked. "Not by half."

\--

The banana in Sherlock's pocket was not a gun, but the thief didn't know that, if the way he kept glancing down at Sherlock's hip was anything to go by.

But then Sherlock turned, pointing to a scratch on the wall next to him, proof that the thief was in fact a thief.

The thief laughed and shook his head, and Sherlock saw the banana's stem was showing, revealed by a twist of fabric. The thief lunged, and Sherlock drew the banana faster than a Wild West gunslinger. When Lestrade arrived, the thief was still clutching his eye in pain.

\--

"You stopped someone with... a piece of fruit?" John asked, grabbing hold of Sherlock's arm to check one of the deeper cuts.

"More than once. When I was six I threw a tangerine at Suzy Jenkins."

"What had Suzy Jenkins ever done to you?"

"I'm fine, John." Sherlock pulled his arm away. "She cheated on her spelling test. And then she lied about it when I confronted her."

"You... threw a tangerine at a little girl."

"I missed, if it makes you feel any better. And I got in trouble."

"I don't think that counts."

"Then there was the pigeon..."

\--

The pair of men were gaining on Sherlock. He dodged hard around a corner, scampering down the narrow alley. He could hear them close behind, boots thumping on the pavement.

The alley ended in a brick wall. Damn, he'd taken a wrong turn. There was no escape. Sherlock turned, adrenaline flooding through him. He would have to fight.

The men stopped running when they saw his predicament, advancing slowly with menacing smiles.

On the ground, Sherlock saw a rusty tin can. He picked it up. Perhaps they would die of tetanus as he lay in hospital with multiple broken bones.

\--

"I thought you said there was a pigeon?"

"Oh, yes," Sherlock said. "I disturbed it when I picked up the tin. Bird phobias can be very severe."

"Both of the men had _bird phobias_?"

"It's not so surprising. They worked for the same syndicate. They were probably both involved in the same traumatic incident."

"A traumatic incident involving... pigeons."

"It's the most likely explanation."

"So they just ran away when they saw the pigeon?"

"As soon as it flapped its wings, they were off like a shot."

"That was lucky," said John.

Sherlock plucked a blade of grass and smiled.

\--

The woman was surprisingly strong for her size. She had Sherlock pinned to the ground, his face pressing into the lawn.

When she rolled him over, he brought a mouthful of dirt and grass with him. He blew out, hard, propelling the debris into her face. She laughed and wiped it away with her hand, letting go of his wrist for just a moment, and in that instant, he brought his own hand up and pushed his fingers into the sides of her throat.

"The hyoid bone. So delicate. Not something you want to have broken."

She let him go.

\--

"I'd think you were making these up," John said, taking the blade of grass from Sherlock, "but I've seen you use a newspaper as a shield and a shoelace as a garrote."

"And not even my own shoelace!" added Sherlock, rather proudly.

"Yes, I know. It was mine."

"Oh, and don't forget the chocolate bar."

"The what?"

"The other day. Mycroft wouldn't leave, so I ate a bar of--"

"Right, I hadn't realised that was meant to be construed as a threat."

Sherlock chuckled. "Eating chocolate around Mycroft is practically a declaration of war."

"I'll have to remember that."

\--

John noticed the car following him soon after he began to walk down the street. Its windows were tinted; it lurked behind him like a shiny black panther stalking its prey.

He kept his pace steady, not wanting to reveal that he'd noticed. The car pursued him all the way back to Baker Street.

Mycroft was climbing out of the car as John approached his front door. John sped up, but Mycroft reached the door first.

John took out his house key. The umbrella came up, blocking his path.

"Good evening, Mycroft," said John. "What can I do for you?"

\--

"The umbrella blockade. He's been fond of that since he started carrying one at the age of thirteen. I broke his first eight until he found one with a steel core."

"Your poor mother," John said. "Oh, and if you were wondering, Mycroft was there because he was worried about you; his surveillance team lost track of you."

Sherlock smiled a small, pleased smile.

"You haven't found a way to evade his CCTV cameras, have you?"

"There's no evading those," Sherlock said, waving at a nearby tree.

John stretched, feeling his muscles ache from the chase and subsequent struggle. "Maybe next time we should call the police and let them handle things."

Sherlock frowned. "Where's the fun in that?"

"I was thinking of the fun of not being injured."

"Oh! John! You're not seriously hurt, are you?"

John smiled at Sherlock's concern. "No, I'm fine. I... oh, who am I kidding? I just need to make sure to carry my gun. Or a banana."

"You could carry a variety of items in your pockets, just in case."

"Like some sort of demented kangaroo."

"Exactly."

They sat together in silence while the sun set, the park going quiet and still around them.


End file.
